


Incorgnito

by PeggyPincurls



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awesome Peggy Carter, Domestic Avengers, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Modern Peggy Carter, Peggy Carter Lives, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Peggy Carter, Protective Steve Rogers, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 06:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeggyPincurls/pseuds/PeggyPincurls
Summary: "I like your costume, Captain America," Wonder Woman said shyly, reaching up to touch the brim of the red fedora Steve was wearing."Thanks!" Steve said in delight."Who picked Brooklyn's costume?"Steve and Peggy looked down at their pup, who was panting happily as he trotted up to them."He did!"**A Brooklyn Carter-Rogers story, in which all of the Avengers take dressing up Steve and Peggy's dog far too seriously.





	Incorgnito

_Boys and girls of every age  
Wouldn't you like to see something strange?  
Come with us and you will see._

**(The Nightmare Before Christmas Original Soundtrack, _This is Halloween_ )**

**

When Peggy worked in the upper, residential levels of the Tower as opposed to in the office space on the lower levels, she liked to take Brooklyn along. No one minded--the little corgi was the apple of his “father’s” eye, and was well-behaved for the most part. Everyone, even Natasha, liked to play with him, and despite appearances, even Tony deigned to chat at the pup when he was around. Towards the end of February, there were a few truly unseasonably warm days, the temperature reaching nearly eighty degrees. After a long, stressful winter, this unexpected warm weather cheered Peggy, and so on a day when the weather app on her mobile phone said seventy-four degrees, she packed a little bag with treats and toys and hooked Brooklyn’s leash to his collar. 

Brooklyn, who actually acted offended when passersby didn’t acknowledge him or offer pets, made any trip twice as long. Peggy apologized for his curiosity to those who wanted to pet or scritch, and stoically bore the pup’s insistence on marking every hydrant they passed. This culminated in the receptionist at the Tower insisting on taking Brooklyn’s own security photo, despite Peggy having her own access pass and Brooklyn not needing a paper sticker with a grainy black and white photo of himself. It was nearly nine-thirty by the time Peggy got up to the Tower’s communal open-plan kitchen and dining room, her favorite place to set up her laptop. 

“There, now,” she murmured, kissing Brooklyn’s velvety soft head as she knelt to undo his leash and show him a plush loaf of bread out of her “puppy bag”. “Play with your toys, my little love. Mumma must do some paperwork.”

Brooklyn seized the stuffed loaf of bread and trotted off, settling down on the carpet to chew on his toy. Peggy left a stuffed wine bottle (a gift from Angie, of all people) and a chewy bone nearby, then settled down at the table with her laptop.

She was so engrossed in catching up on her mission reports that she realized about early afternoon that she hadn’t heard Brooklyn whine or bark in a while. This was not out of the ordinary, as he was not really a noisy dog and only barked when he was very excited. But she hadn’t heard him scampering around either, and he hadn’t pawed at her legs wanting attention for over an hour.

“Uh oh,” she murmured. Raising her voice a little, she called, “Brooklyn.”

The sheepish face that peered around the doorjamb leading to rec room was not her dog’s.

"Um," Bucky said, his face as red as the star on his shoulder, which was on rather aesthetically pleasing display by his sleeveless shirt, which bore a graphic of an EKG reading beneath the text _Your ideal heart rate is zero_.  "We need help."

Peggy's eyes began to scan like nervous radar.  "What do you mean, help? Who is 'we'?" She followed Bucky into the rec room, as he called over his shoulder, "OK, now don't get mad."

Peggy's hands flew to her mouth when she saw what was going on, and then she shoved him ungracefully aside to run forward.  " _Mad_? I shall  _kill_  you.  What have you done to my baby?"

"Relax!" Bucky hollered.  "It’s the cheap crap from the ninety-nine-cent-store. It rips if you look at it funny.  He won't even lose any fur."

The "it" Bucky was referring to was actually tinfoil, which should have been nowhere near the dog to begin with.  But Brooklyn Carter-Rogers, who only loved one person nearly as much as he loved his Daddy and Mumma and that person was Uncle Bucky, had cheerfully offered his left front paw to his "uncle"'s mad experiment, and luckily was no worse for wear besides losing a few tufts of fur when Peggy pulled the foil off his leg and forepaw (much as he loved Uncle Bucky, he had gotten squirmy and didn't understand why he had to stand still and be wrapped in foil when they could play; he had frisked about and Bucky had quickly lost control of the situation).

The only reason Peggy didn't simply murder Bucky outright was in fact that he was correct about how easily the foil tore.  In fairness to Bucky, he had carefully and loosely wrapped the dog's leg in the foil, and it was nowhere near dangerous.  Peggy took the contraption carefully off her pup, reading Bucky the riot act the entire time.

"You are ridiculous.  How dare you put anything sharp near my little one.  You are mad.  You could have hurt him! What if you had wrapped it too tightly? Honestly, Barnes, sometimes I feel like the puppy is more grown-up than you are.  What in the name of hell were you thinking? You're lucky I don't tattle on you to Steve."

"Spring-or-Treat is coming," Bucky pouted, and Peggy found it traitorously adorable, the Winter Soldier _pouting_ , "and I'll be damned if I let my nephew go trick or milk-bone-treating dressed up as Stark, or heaven forbid,  _Clint_."

"I heard that, you scruffy putz," Clint Barton said cheerfully, striding into the room with a quiver made out of what was clearly the cardboard inside of a paper towel roll.  It was full of tiny arrows made out of drinking straws with paper arrowheads taped to their tips.  "C'mere, Brooklyn, want to try on Uncle Clint's mask? The ladies love it!"

While Brooklyn galloped in a happy circle around Clint's feet, the archer held his makeshift quiver at pup-level.  Clint had put a hole in either side of the towel roll with a hole punch he’d nicked from Darcy’s desk, then tied a string through each hole to make a strap. Now Brooklyn ran through the loop of string, and Clint got the quiver neatly on his back as he cantered around.  "Looks great on you, bud."

"Let me get this straight," Peggy said to Bucky.  "You wrapped my dog's front foot in tinfoil because you were trying to dress him like you for Spring-or-Treat?"

"Give me that.  Maybe I can make an arm out of half of this towel roll and slip it over his paw." Bucky made a grab for Brooklyn and the quiver, but Clint blocked him with one arm.  

"Don't you dare, murderface, I spent all morning making that!"

Peggy scooped Brooklyn up while the men tussled.  Brooklyn looked adoringly up at his Mumma, panting, while she relieved him of the quiver.  Handing it back to Clint, she said, " _Stay away_  from my dog, you two great useless lumps.  He will not be going trick-or-milk-bone-treating with either one of you if this is how you behave.  Honestly, Barnes.  Steve is going to hit the roof."

"No he won't, because you're not gonna tell him," Bucky pleaded, keeping Clint at arm's length with his metal hand over the archer's face.  "You're not, right? Peg?"

Peggy had already hustled Brooklyn out of the room.  While Bucky was distracted, Clint licked his finger and hooked it into Bucky's ear, and Bucky's howl followed Peggy down the hall.

" _Gross_.  Grow  _up_ , Barton."

**

Spring-or-Treat--a name Peggy found ridiculously stupid, but no one had been able to come up with anything better, herself included; Steve had flatly refused to have the imaginary holiday named after him and everyone had vociferously vetoed Tony’s attempt to name it after the Avengers themselves--had actually been Steve’s idea. He had come up with it on a visit to an elementary school. Sitting in a circle on the storytime rug in the back of the kindergarten classroom, he had fielded questions about his more recent adventures, which had included helping Thor to repel some unwelcome visitors from Jotunheim back in October. When he had asked why that story had prompted some long faces, a little boy had informed him with a weight-of-the-world sigh that the children were very glad there were no more frost giants running around and sure, snowball fights were fun--but the brief invasion of the Asgardian forces had ruined Halloween trick-or-treating for the local kids. 

While the children did not know it, Steve knew all about missing Halloween. As a child during the Depression, he had been ill often and confined to bed, not able to enjoy playing at the then-recent game of trick-or-treating with the other children. He took their disappointment very seriously, and by the time the bell had rung, he had promised them he would put together a special event to make up for the holiday those inconsiderate frost giants had taken away from them.

Surprisingly, Tony had been on board almost immediately. He never missed an opportunity for a photo op in his Iron Man armor, and with Pepper’s organizational skills and clout with the local businesses, it was short work to choose a date and invite the city’s children to attend. Pepper began wrangling parents to chaperone groups of trick or treaters, each accompanied by any Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D. agents willing to participate. 

There were a few speed bumps in the planning process--Clint and Darcy were initially not allowed to be on the same chaperoning team due to the likelihood of shenanigans, but young Sharon Carter, Peggy’s great-great-grandniece, had insisted on being in the group chaperoned by her own personal hero, Bucky Barnes. Bucky, torn between not disappointing Sharon (whose hero-worship of the man who had saved her life* was truly heartwarming) and wanting to be nowhere near crowds of people in masks and disguises, would only agree to go if Natasha were with him. Of course, Steve or Peggy would have been happy to do what Barnes self-deprecatingly referred to as “Bucky-sit”, but he would not hear of his star-crossed friends being split up on a night they could have fun together as a couple. Natasha agreed with this sentiment and promised to stick by Bucky’s side, but few other Avengers were willing to put up with Clint on a sugar high, which meant the archer and Darcy had an extra chaperone on their team. This was Phil Coulson, and there were already rumors he was going to don a Captain America costume for the event, which made Steve rather adorably uncomfortable. 

Either way, there was sort of an unspoken rule that everyone had to attend in costume, to keep the spirit of the makeshift holiday for the children. Peggy hadn’t realized that also somehow included her dog until she had caught Barnes trying to make a corgi-sized metal arm out of tinfoil, but while he was the first to try and make Brooklyn into a miniature version of himself, he certainly wasn’t the last. Much to Peggy’s chagrin.

**

It was Pepper and Tony she caught at it next. Pepper was the one who gave the game away, actually, by spinning to face the door Peggy strode through and looking incredibly guilty as she hopped up to sit on the desk next to one of Tony’s spare helmets, crossing one trim leg over the other.

“Hi Peggy,” Pepper said cheerfully--far too cheerfully. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

“Have you seen Brooklyn?” Peggy asked, instead of commenting on the remark. 

“No-o-o,” Pepper trilled, kicking a red-soled Louboutin pump idly and only succeeding in making herself look more suspicious. “Not recently.”

“OK, try it!” Tony called excitedly from the next room.

“Not now, Tony,” Pepper called sharply back. “Peggy’s here.”

“Oh--” Tony muttered a curse. Peggy heard him rushing to hide whatever he was doing, and then he was bursting into the room with a big grin on his face, tinted sunglasses doing little to hide his twinkling eyes, an Underarmour shirt showing off his toned chest and arc reactor to perfection. “Aunt Peggy! Always a treat to have you at the Tower. Cup of coffee? No, wait, we’ve got Lady Grey, just for you. Pepper, get Aunt Peggy a cup of tea.”

“Where is my dog?” Peggy asked, not buying the attitude of faux cheer.

The helmet on the desk beside Pepper barked, and the faceplate shifted with a mechanical _whirr_ to reveal the panting, grinning face of Brooklyn. 

Peggy folded her arms and turned to the sheepish Pepper. “ _No_.”

“Of course _no_ ,” Tony said happily, visibly relaxing now that the jig was up. “We’re going to make him one that’s _his_ size.”

Instead of answering in words, Peggy dove for the stapler on the desk, and Pepper, knowing it was her weapon of choice, immediately got between aunt and nephew. 

**

It got worse as the date of the proposed Spring-or-Treat event approached. Peggy was at the stove in her own and Steve’s modest kitchen one night, stirring ingredients for one of the recipes she secretly was most proud of learning—a stroganoff casserole—into a skillet, when she heard the scrabbling. She was well attuned to the sound of Brooklyn’s claws on the hardwood floors, but the rapid patter of light footsteps in chase could only belong to one of her two guests.

"Oh--goddamnit.  Come back here!" Natasha hissed.  

Peggy's gaze immediately dropped to the floor, knowing what she would see--Brooklyn, wearing something asinine.  Sure enough, the dog galloped into view around the doorjamb with one of Natasha's Widow's Bites around his neck.

"Natasha!" Peggy shrieked in disbelief and disappointment. 

"It's not loaded!" Natasha insisted, crawling lithely after Brooklyn in dark jeans and a raspberry-colored jumper and already very aware of what she was being yelled at about. 

Unloaded notwithstanding, Peggy scooped Brooklyn up and neatly unclipped the Bite from around his neck, hurling it in the direction of Natasha's head.  She hadn't known the Bites could be expanded to fit around the bull neck of a corgi, even a little one like Brooklyn.

Bucky, having smelled supper, came through the door in jeans and stocking feet a few seconds later, his skin and hair damp from a shower, sniffing at the air and pulling his thermal shirt over his head. “Something smells great, Peg. Want me to set—“ He looked down and saw his girlfriend on hands and knees, a Bite in her hand, Brooklyn panting happily in his frowning mumma’s arms. Bucky’s expression became wounded. “ _Tasha_. We agreed on the _arm_ , remember?” Natasha, in a rare display of emotion through a genuine facial expression, looked intensely guilty.

“ _Get out_ or _no one_ gets any supper,” Peggy roared. Natasha knew when she was beaten--she pushed off from the floor and scrambled into the living room with Bucky in tow, while Peggy resumed cooking dinner with Brooklyn tucked under her arm. This was uncomfortable, since the tubby little corgi was not exactly light, and it was difficult to stir while keeping his fur clear of the skillet, but she managed, only putting him down when she plated the stroganoff for everyone, giving her poor beleaguered pup his own little dish of it.

**

In all honesty, Peggy should simply have stopped bringing Brooklyn to the Tower, but construction being done in the building across the street from the one she and Steve lived in was rendering it too noisy to work, and she didn’t have the heart to leave the pup at home while she sneaked a few hours of productivity in here and there. It was hardly as though the dog were in any danger--rather, the other Avengers were in far more danger from having Peggy’s wrath turned on them when she caught them trying to dress Brooklyn up as one of them.

She couldn’t even explain _why_ it bothered her so much, but the more they tried, the more irritated she became. Even the more innocent of the rogues’ gallery she worked with was not immune to her temper, as they found out to their peril when she followed a trail of paw prints (in powdered sugar, which meant Darcy had been sharing forbidden treats, another strike against her) into the rec room.

“He can _do_ it though, but,” Darcy said in her millennial way of speaking. “He’s so _pure_.”

Peggy _had_ to see what was prompting such a rapturous response from Darcy, and realized later she should not have been surprised when she rounded the corner and came upon Darcy and Thor, with Brooklyn between them on a table, next to the plate of powdered donuts. The burly Asgardian had Brooklyn’s paw in one hand, and was gently lifting Mjolnir with his wrist, to keep up the illusion that Brooklyn himself was lifting it. 

“ _He is worthy_ ,” Darcy breathed in awe, her eyes aglow with happiness, and Thor grinned, the guileless grin of the cheerful demigod. Peggy harrumphed, surprising both of them--and causing Thor to drop the hammer on his foot. The demigod doubled over with a surprised grunt.

“Lady Carter! A true delight to see your beautiful face again. All is well,” Thor wheezed, still trying to smile through the pain, while Darcy had no inkling of how much trouble they were in; she beamed.

“Agent Carter, _look_! Brooklyn is worthy of picking up Myeuh-Myeuh!”

“I’m going to give you Myeuh-Myeuh,” Peggy grumbled, taking Brooklyn from Thor, which left the thunder god free to nurse his injured foot. “If you had dropped this hammer on my dog, I think I might have found myself worthy of pounding your faces in with it.”

Darcy wrinkled her nose as Peggy hustled Brooklyn away. “What’s the Asgardian god of crankiness? Cause I think she just left.”

Thor winced, checking his toes for breaks. 

Hugging her obliviously happy dog and stalking off, Peggy was finally able to put her finger on what was making her so upset about the other Avengers’ harmless, if silly, efforts to make costumes for Brooklyn. 

Clipping Brooklyn’s leash to his collar, she gathered their things and set off to make it right.

**

“Hey, there you are,” Steve said happily, padding into the entryway in his stocking feet as soon as he heard her come in and put her carrier bags aside. Brooklyn’s ID tags jingled as he broke into the happy barking squirmy dance that overtook him whenever he saw his beloved Daddy Steve. Bending, Steve gracefully scooped the pup up in one arm and slipped the other one around Peggy’s waist, pulling her close for a warm hello kiss. 

Peggy purred. “Hmmm. Hello, darling. How was your day?”

“Better now you’re in my arms,” he murmured, swaying gently back and forth with the dog cradled between them. “How was yours?”

Peggy made a sound of dismay and buried her face in his strong shoulder, breathing in his scent and nuzzling the soft cotton of his t-shirt. “Don’t ask. Your friends are the most aggravating individuals.”

“Oh, when they’re aggravating individuals they’re _my_ friends,” Steve teased softly, stroking her hair. “What’d they do this time?”

“I’ll tell you over dinner,” Peggy said. “Would you like to order in?”

“No need. Got in early, thought I’d try out a ziti recipe. It’s got to bake for a little while yet, though. Why don’t I draw you a nice hot bath and Brooklyn and I will play, and we’ll call you when it’s ready? Sound good?”

Peggy smiled against his neck. “Sounds heavenly. What did I do to deserve such lovely boys?”

Steve held Brooklyn up and Peggy wrinkled her nose under the lap of his tongue, then sighed happily as her Captain took her mouth in another slow, gentle kiss. “Every little thing,” he answered, then shepherded her further into the apartment. “Go unwind. We’ll call you when it’s time for dinner. Won’t we, buddy?”

Brooklyn barked.

**

The bath was incredibly relaxing, but Peggy didn’t linger too long, eager to cuddle her Captain some more after the recent stressful days. She was almost in too big of a hurry to return to his arms to notice something very important was missing from the rack beside her vanity, but a good agent never missed a trick, and like a shock of cold water, the warm relaxed feeling the bath had instilled in her began to drain away as she caught the inconsistency in the corner of her eye. 

"Steven Grant Rogers, where is my best hat?" Peggy called dangerously, belting her dressing gown over her nightgown and padding out of the bedroom. She didn’t have to go far--she almost tripped over it.

The red fedora with the red, white and blue ribbon tied round it appeared briefly to be scooting across the floor on its own, but Peggy saw what was pushing it along--two furry drumsticks and a stumpy corgi bum. When she lifted the hat off his head, Brooklyn wagged his stump of a tail at her and looked up with his open-jaw grin.

Peggy sighed. “ _Steve_.”

Steve, who had been giving chase, peeked around the doorframe, looking bashful.  “I said I’d call you when dinner was ready.”

Peggy braced one hand on her brow. “Oh, _no_. Not you too, darling.” 

Steve was blushing adorably. "I...I just thought he could try it on."

Peggy folded her arms.  "You tried to dress the dog up as me? What have you got behind your back?”

Steve blushed more deeply and held a tiny blue suit jacket out to show her. It looked like something one might use to dress a doll. “I got it at Build a Bear. You know, that place where you can make the stuffed animals? I was going to put his front paws through the sleeves and button it over his tummy. I don’t think the skirt will fit him.”

Despite herself, Peggy felt her anger ebb, then swirl down her internal drain; she let a slow smile curl her lips. Maybe it was his use of silly words like “tummy”, or the fact that he’d unabashedly gone to a shop that sold toys in order to get something for the dog to wear, or how boyishly handsome he looked as he explained all this to her. But mostly it was simply his cheerful, straightforward response to something that she’d met with irritation and annoyance that made her rethink her bad mood and try to be better, simply because he inspired her so. “Come with me, darling. I’ve something to show you, and a confession to make.”

Leading him back through the apartment towards the occasional table, she pulled what she’d purchased that evening out of its plastic bag--a little Captain America frisbee, painted to look like Steve’s own shield. When she showed it to him, his blue eyes were dancing. 

“I got it at Party City. I thought we could strap it to his back,” she admitted sheepishly.

When they both burst out laughing, Brooklyn looked up at them and wagged his stump of a tail, only twining in and out between their ankles when his beloved Mumma and Daddy met for a kiss.

“It bothered me,” Peggy murmured in Steve’s ear as they embraced. “It bothered me that no one suggested we dress him as you. I feel like that should have been everyone’s first thought, and it wasn’t. No one thought of it at all. Not even Barnes. It…It hurt my feelings. It hurt my feelings for your sake.”

“They don’t mean any harm,” Steve soothed, rocking her as he had earlier. “They’re just having fun. It doesn’t bother me, Peggy.” He kissed her forehead. “Like I said, I was thinking we ought to dress him up as _you_.”

“He’s a dog,” Peggy laughed softly, “and doesn’t care a bit about any of it. It seems silly now how angry it made me.”

Steve caressed her cheek, tipping her chin up to gaze lovingly in her eyes. “Thanks for defending my honor.”

Peggy blushed demurely. “Well, when I was a little girl, I did like to play knight.”

Steve’s eyes twinkled. Reaching past Peggy towards the occasional table where she’d rested the frisbee, he picked it up, then knelt to show it to Brooklyn. “Look, bud. Mumma got you a cool shield. Why don’t you play with it a bit and chill out on your pillow? Daddy wants to pay some very special attention to Mumma for a while.”

Brooklyn licked Steve’s hand, then obediently clamped his jaws around the frisbee and padded off towards his pillow and toy box. Steve took Peggy’s hand in his own, twirling her in a graceful dance step, then scooped her up in his arms as easily as he’d picked up the puppy earlier. 

“Enough about who’s wearing what,” he murmured huskily in her ear, making her shudder with pleasant anticipation as he carried her towards the bedroom. “Let me undress you.”

**

The situation came to a head a week before the scheduled trick-or-treat event, when Peggy and Steve were seated at the island in the Tower’s communal kitchen comparing routes for an escort mission and Brooklyn—or, at least Peggy thought it was Brooklyn—streaked across the dining area, then sat happily down on the area rug and began to roll around.

Peggy calmly shut her laptop and got up, walking slowly over to their dog. He ceased his frolicking and looked up at her with that corgi grin, panting happily.

“Young man,” Peggy said sternly, “would you care to tell your mother how you have, in the space of one morning, turned _bright green_?”

Brooklyn—whose fur was indeed a mottled, almost day-glo green—responded by cheerfully chasing his stump of a tail, spinning in circles.

“What the heck?!” Steve exclaimed, getting up from his chair.

“Someone had better come out and explain this to me in two seconds, or I shall destroy this tower with my anger,” Peggy called out, turning towards the door. 

There was murmuring out in the hallway, then a muffled exclamation, and Bruce Banner stumbled into the room, off-balance, as though he had been shoved. He whirled back towards the door as if he would retreat to safety, his usually disheveled appearance only contributing to his general air of panic, but seemed to think better of it and turned back towards Peggy to face the music.

Peggy folded her arms beneath her breasts and tapped the toe of one high-heeled pump. “Well, Dr. Banner?” she asked.

Bruce blanched. “Do you honestly even want to know?”

“Not really, but after everything else I’ve seen this week, I figure this explanation ought to be a honey,” Peggy said dryly. “Just tell me how he got like this.”

There was a hiss from behind the door. “Say it! Say ‘Brooklyn’s always angry’!”

“It’s _Kool-Aid_ ,” Bruce said, frowning at the door. Peggy couldn’t tell if the hiss had been Darcy or Clint, and decided to knock both their heads together for good measure regardless of who it had been. “And it’s harmless, non-toxic, completely edible and will wash right out of his fur.”

“ _That does it_ ,” Peggy said. “I have already purchased something for Brooklyn to wear for Spring-or-Treat, and this madness shall cease immediately.”

“Aw, but Peg,” Steve faltered from behind her, causing her to turn, “what about the thing I bought?”

“Not you too!” Peggy groaned, cradling her head in her hands. “I thought we had agreed.”

“You’re _my_ hero, Peggy,” Steve pouted adorably, but before he could continue his protests were interrupted by the arrival of Tony, carrying a tiny, tiny Iron Man helmet and nearly tripping over the still-green Brooklyn. His eyes widened as he took in the dog, then he turned a mockingly ferocious glare on Banner.

“You _traitor_ ,” Tony accused. “I thought we were Science Bros!”

Bruce set his jaw. “You shouldn’t have just assumed he’d dress up as _you_.”

“And _that_ is what I have been telling _all of you_ from the beginning,” Peggy said icily. “It’s deplorable that not a single one of you thought Steve’s own dog should be carrying a Captain America shield. Which is what he _will_ carry, because it is right and proper. End of story.”

But Steve would not be moved. “ _I_ think he ought to dress up as Agent Carter, because representation is important,” he said, giving Peggy his most loving and stubborn look. 

A voice rang out from the air vent above their heads. “If representation is important, he should be a _female_ superhero!”

Peggy frowned up at the vent. “You may as well come down!”

Natasha opened the vent and dropped neatly into the room, landing almost soundlessly on knee boots. She was holding something, and held the items out to Peggy. “See. There was a Halloween costume of me, and I took the Bites out of it for him. They’re soft. Feel. They won’t hurt him.”

Clint, who had indeed been the one who’d hissed “Brooklyn’s always angry” to Bruce, strolled out from behind the door and leaned against the jamb, crossing his arms. “I can’t believe you bought a Halloween costume of yourself.”

“I didn’t say I bought it.” Natasha bared her teeth in a ferocious smile. “There weren’t any Hawkeye costumes.”

“I don’t want Brooklyn wearing anything you stole,” Steve said, looking disappointed in Natasha. “You know I don’t steal things.”

“You know I _do_ ,” Natasha shot back. “But I didn’t steal these. It was…” She shifted uncomfortably. “It was at the Goodwill, OK?”

“Since when do you go to Goodwill?” Clint asked.

“Bucky does,” Natasha said softly. “He has trouble with big stores, and he forgets he has a regular paycheck sometimes. And--” She smirked at Steve. “And he says he’s trying to break himself of the habit of _stealing_ clothes. So we go to Goodwill.”

Steve looked pleased--and a little smug. Clint, however, burst out laughing. “Your costume ended up in Goodwill!”

“Need I remind you there were _no_ Hawkeye costumes,” Natasha said icily. “In production. _Ever_. At _all_.”

Bucky walked into the room, eating a Twinkie. “Has anyone seen Steve? I wanted to--” He stopped, looking around at everyone’s annoyed expressions, the soft Widow’s bites in Natasha’s hands, Bruce and Tony glare-dueling, and finally the still very green Brooklyn.

Pointing at the dog, Bucky looked at Peggy and said, “I didn’t do that.”

**

“Who’s the best bath buddy?” Steve asked a short time later, lathering soap onto a wet, pouting Brooklyn, who was sitting in a metal washtub in the middle of the communal kitchen. “Who’s soapy? Who’s a soapy boy?”

“There now,” Peggy said softly, petting Brooklyn’s damp ears. “There, there. Be still for Daddy Steve. You’re almost done and a normal color again, my small cuddle bread. Baths don’t hurt.”

“Who’s the soapiest boy?” Steve said cheerfully, pouring water over Brooklyn. “Who’s being so good in the bath that he’ll get a nice treat later?”

Brooklyn perked up slightly at the sound of the word “treat”, but he still looked distrustfully at Daddy Steve, who had put him in the bath. Didn’t he know baths were no fun at all?

“And will get to sleep with Daddy and Mumma tonight, because he has been very patient and a very good sport with everyone dressing him up in silly outfits,” Peggy added, opening a towel for Brooklyn. “Come to Mumma, my little loaf. Bath all done.” Brooklyn immediately tried to scramble out of the washtub, stubby legs scraping as he attempted to get out of the water and to Peggy. Steve helped, lifting the dog into Peggy’s waiting towel. Brooklyn let Peggy rub him dry with the towel and sat placidly in her lap, shivering and shaking water from his ears. 

Peggy picked up the small towel-burrito that was their dog and stood up, looking at Steve. “Is this enough evidence that we should just strap a shield to his back for Spring-or-Treat?” she sighed. “Next time it might be something a bath won’t fix.”

“Uh ooooohhhhhhhh,” a voice sang from the doorway. “Did somebody get a bath?”

Peggy and Steve turned to see a cheerful Darcy, with Thor in tow. The Asgardian was wearing a soft-looking jumper and a leather jacket over jeans, and he had something in his hand that caught Brooklyn’s attention immediately--a hot dog from a food truck in Central Park. 

Steve sighed and smiled at his dog. “Somebody let Uncle Bruce dye his fur green with Kool-Aid. It’s been a rough day.”

“Sounds like somebody needs a treat!” Darcy said, and immediately, unselfishly offered the last of her own hot dog. “Can he have this, Agent Carter? Please? Baths are no fun.”

Brooklyn began wiggling in Peggy’s arms, trying to wag his stumpy bum. Darcy knew baths were not at all fun, and also what was good to eat. Peggy rocked Brooklyn a bit as though he were a baby, clucking affectionately at him. “I think this time it would be all right. He’s been trying very hard to make everyone happy, and deserves a treat.”

Brooklyn turned adoring eyes up to Mumma Peggy, then devoured the hot dog in three bites, bun and all. 

“Why’d you let Dr. Banner turn ya _green_ , buddy?” Darcy asked, scratching Brooklyn’s head. “Is this because no one can pick a costume for you? That’s what they’re all arguing over in the rec room about.”

“ _Still_?” Peggy asked incredulously. “This has gotten out of control.”

Thor, who was never one to hold a grudge, beamed at Peggy. “Will you allow me, Lady Carter? I think I may be able to help solve your dilemma.”

Thor led the way into the recreation room, where Darcy’s assessment proved to be absolutely true--the argument had continued raging among the Avengers while Steve and Peggy had bathed Brooklyn. Tony and Pepper were sitting on the sofa, while Natasha had commandeered a recliner, with Bucky sitting at her feet on the floor in front of it. Bruce was on the other end of the sofa, and it was obvious Pepper was between the two "Science Bros" as a buffer. Clint was seated on the floor beside the coffee table. 

“Friends!” Thor greeted everyone, as though he had just entered Cheers. “What seems to be troubling you all?”

“It’s…” Tony flushed, a rarity for him. “It’s a meeting to decide which of us we’re dressing up Spangles’ damned dog as for Spring-or-Treat .” His eyes blazed as he added, “Which is your fault for letting those Frost Giants invade back in October to ruin Halloween, Point Break. Just for that, I’m dressing you up as Patrick Swayze if you decide to stick around for the trick-or-treating.”

“Very well!” Thor said, then leaned towards Darcy and asked in a stage whisper, “Who is this Pat Rick of Sway-Zee?”

“That means that we can dress Brooklyn up as _you_ , Thor! Like we practiced! You guys should have seen it. Thor made it look like he was picking up the hammer. It was super cute. He was _Thorgi_ ,” Darcy announced as though it were the best idea ever. “Come on, you guys!” Taking Brooklyn from Peggy, she took his front paws. Guiding the dog through a small dance, she gruffed, “Heimdall, open the Bifroster! These frost giants are doin’ me a heck!”

Brooklyn was utterly overjoyed at all this attention, wiggling his butt in delight.

Pepper was trying not to laugh. “That _is_ actually incredibly clever.”

“Dude. I’m building him a suit already. Corgbuster. End of discussion,” Tony said.

“Bamboozled again!” Darcy cheered in her “Brooklyn” voice, still dancing Brooklyn’s paws around. 

“You guys are acting like a bunch of assholes,” Clint argued. “The quiver fits perfectly on his back and my old mask is basically the same shape as his ears.”

“Why does he have to dress up like one of you just because he’s male?” Natasha shot back. “I have two mini-bites that will fit around his forepaws and a medallion from one of my old belts that we can put on his collar. It’s okay if he’s a _girl_ hero, you know.”

Peggy actually thought Natasha had a point, but she’d have been triple damned if she admitted it and furthered this lunacy.

“I admit the Kool Aid thing didn’t work,” Bruce said, “but it’s probably better if he dresses like me and not the other guy. I have this tiny pair of glasses that’ll fit him. We just need to make a lab coat out of a shirt.”

“He’s _my_ nephew,” Bucky groused. “I helped adopt him, and he’s dressing up as me, damn it. I invoke my rights as his uncle Bucky.”

“You don’t _have_ custodial rights as his uncle Bucky,” Natasha said affectionately, stroking his shoulder. This did nothing to soothe Bucky.

“ _Enough_!” Thor yelled, but not unkindly.

Everyone quieted, looking at the thunder god. 

"I came in here with an idea to solve this dilemma, and solve it we shall," Thor said cheerfully, placing his mostly-uneaten hot dog on the coffee table Clint was sitting at. “Everyone, please, sit just as you are. We shall decide it exactly as my father, Odin, chose which weapon I should begin my training with.”

Peggy looked alarmed.  "Thor, all due respect, he is a dog.  It is a Halloween costume for a dog.  This is not that serious."

Thor, not to be dissuaded, clapped a brotherly hand on Peggy's shoulder--which nearly sent Peggy stumbling into the wall.  "No fear, Lady Carter! It is a tried and tested method of choosing the best course of action and one I benefit from to this day.  Allow me to begin.  Come, Friend Brooklyn!"

Scooping Brooklyn up in his strong hands, Thor held the dog up as though he were conferring a great ceremony upon them--and in his mind, perhaps he was.  "Know this.  Friend Brooklyn, the Small but Mighty, shall leave this room having selected his Hallows raiment, which will be chosen just as my Allfather Odin chose my first weapon for training." 

And with that, Thor placed Brooklyn on the floor and gestured grandly, booming delightedly, " _Pick one_!"

Brooklyn needed no second bidding, and, amid the laughter, raced over to the one his heart loved most in that moment.  When the assembled Avengers saw where he’d run, their ire at each other vanished completely and they only laughed harder, but Thor was still quite serious as he declared, 

" _The choice is made_!"

**

The weather for Spring-or-Treat was perfect--warm but breezy, mostly clear with a few wispy purple clouds hurrying across the dusky sky to add to the mood, and a big, silver moon rising like a half-dollar at the edge of the world. Steve was thrilled at the turnout--there were almost more kids than there were Avengers to supervise, but Pepper had gotten quite a few of the parents to come along as chaperones. Even adults were excited to rub elbows with the local superheroes.

“Are you _sure_ you’re going to be all right?” Steve asked Bucky. “Peg or I can come with you. It looks like there might be a big crowd tonight, and a lot of little kids running around. Can you handle that? It’s OK if you’re not up to it,” he added quickly. 

“All I asked was how my ears looked,” Bucky chuckled. “I kind of made them with hot glue.”

“I’m just grateful you didn’t use Brooklyn to get the fur,” Peggy said. “Big Bad, you look positively wolfish, and we and the children appreciate you coming along on tonight’s trip. You didn’t even have to dress up if you didn’t want to.”

Bucky elbowed Steve. “Nah, it was kind of fun. Remember how I used to black out my eyes in the field so I wouldn’t sweat and give away my position?” he asked. “Makes a good wolf nose, doesn’t it?” The Winter Soldier was wearing what Natasha affectionately called his “uniform”--a dark thermal over new, dark jeans, engineer boots, and gloves. But he’d added pointed, pale-furred ears--Peggy wasn’t even sure how they were standing up on their own; she and Steve would find out later Natasha had given him a hand and secured them to his hair with barrettes--and his gloves had claws glued to the tips of the fingers. You couldn’t really tell unless you were specifically listening for it, but he had plastic fangs capped over his eyeteeth and lower canines, and sometimes his speech would lisp through them. A tail, made of the the same pale silvery fur as the ears, was clipped to the back of his belt. 

“You look great, pal,” Steve said warmly. “Just trying to look out for you.”

“I’ll look out for him tonight. He’s my White Wolf,” Natasha said, looking oddly sweet in a skirt and pinafore beneath a lovely brushed-velvet cloak, and the affection in her voice was so pronounced that Peggy’s eyes widened in awe and she was too enthralled to turn away as the Widow pulled Bucky to her for a soft, slow kiss.

Steve cleared his throat--he hadn’t been able to tear himself from the display either--and Natasha let Bucky go; the Winter Soldier looked pleasantly dazed. Arching his brows, Bucky declared quietly, “Ah- _oooooooooh_.”

Peggy chuckled into her hand, and even Steve had to smile. 

“Get ready, Team Cap and Team Widow, your charges are here!” Pepper called cheerfully. Pepper--who had had to reject several costume suggestions from Tony on the grounds that it was a public event, attended by children--still looked incredibly beautiful in an orange flight suit with a hose and apparatus attached to its front, a strange-looking helmet under her arm. She had had to explain the costume to Peggy (”I’m an X-wing pilot--Steve will fill you in”).

“You ready, Pep?” Tony called (Steve had also had to explain his costume to Peggy: “He’s Han Solo. He’s a space smuggler. It’s very popular these days, even though it came out in the 70s. We’ll watch it.” Peggy had responded, “Where can I get a pair of cigarette trousers like those?”). 

“Pep-5, standing by,” Pepper responded, and Tony beamed over the heads of his small band of trick-or-treat smugglers. 

“You complete me!”

Before joining him, Pepper touched Steve’s arm gently. “You guys good to go? Remember, we’re on walkie-talkies if you need backup.”

“We’ll only need backup if someone gives out toothbrushes,” Steve joked, and Pepper laughed.

“Here I was thinking you’d be the one to give them the cavity lecture, Captain.”

“Going to leave that to Phil,” Steve responded, rolling his eyes. Even as he said it, Phil Coulson, in a head-to-toe vintage USO-era Captain America uniform, complete with winged cowl, was giving his incredibly amused charges their marching orders: “So. You’re going trick or treating…”

“Aunt Peggy!” Pounding footsteps heralded the arrival of Sharon Carter, Peggy’s great-great-grandniece. “How’d I do?”

Peggy gave Sharon’s costume--which looked suspiciously like Bucky’s street clothes--an appropriately long once-over, lingering on her left arm. “Splendid. Take a shot, why don’t you?”

Raising her shield--which was, of course, Steve’s shield--Sharon wound up and pretended to punch It with her gloved left hand. 

Peggy laughed. “Excellent. Will it embarrass your friends if I hug you?”

“Nope,” Sharon said matter-of-factly, curling around Peggy’s side for a minute, but leaving her shield arm free. “You look great, Aunt Peg.” Then she giggled. “Sharp suit, Uncle Steve.”

Steve--who loved being “Uncle Steve”--stood up a little straighter. “Wait till you see my hat.” Putting Peggy’s fedora on his head, he asked, “What do you think?”

“Most sincerely awesome,” Sharon pronounced, holding her hand up for a high five. But her eyes really lit up when she heard someone call, “I think I’m looking in a mirror over here.”

“Sergeant Barnes!” Waving an arm encased in tinfoil, she circled around Steve and Peggy so her hero could see her better. “Like it?”

“Wow, _neat_ ,” Bucky said appreciatively, pulling up his sleeve to display his own arm, which surprised Steve and Peggy, although not in a bad sense. “Twins.”

“I made it myself,” Sharon said proudly, holding up her arm beside Bucky’s. The red star had been drawn carefully onto her shoulder with Magic Marker. “It’s just like yours.”

Peggy turned her dancing eyes away so Bucky would not be embarrassed by how much this pleased her. 

“It’s _better_ than mine,” Bucky said warmly, then turned to the rest of the assembled children. “Ready to go get some candy, guys?”

The kids cheered, and Bucky made a sweeping come-on gesture with his arm. “All right. Let’s do this!”

Natasha and Peggy exchanged a smirking nod as the Black Widow pulled her red hood almost artfully atop her hair, then followed her fellow and his small costumed band down the block. 

Peggy caught Steve also hiding a pleased grin, and they ended up beaming at each other. 

**

"What did you get?" Peggy knelt to see what her small charges had scored from the latest building they'd cried "Trick or treat!" at.  "Oh, my, licorice whips!"

The small Black Panther was already pushing up his mask and chomping at his licorice, but the little Kylo Ren pushed her mask up to reveal her face and frowned.  "That man was nice, but licorice gets stuck in my braces."

Peggy fished in her own bag.  "Perhaps you would like to trade me for a Snickers bar, then," she said, teasing the treat in front of the girl.  "I dearly love licorice whips."

Kylo lit up and accepted the chocolate, placing her Twizzler in Peggy's hand.  "Thanks, Agent Carter!"

The rest of her group was following Steve back down the sidewalk.  "Did everyone say thank you?" Steve said, and small voices chorused, "Yes" (or "yeth" if they were already cramming their treats in their mouths).  

A tiny Doctor Who in a rainbow t-shirt, culottes, and suspenders ran down the steps along with Brooklyn.  "What'd you get, Brooklyn?" the girl asked, and Brooklyn dropped his treat bag and barked.  

Peggy smiled at Steve, who was scooping up a little girl dressed as Wonder Woman because the youngster had tugged on his suit sleeve and whispered that she was tired of walking, and the Captain smiled right back at Peggy.  

"I like your costume, Captain America," Wonder Woman said shyly, reaching up to touch the brim of the red fedora Steve was wearing.

"Thanks!" Steve said in delight. "Halloween is when you get to be your favorite thing in the whole world.  That's why I dressed as Agent Carter." He beamed at Peggy, who blushed.

Wonder Woman smiled at Peggy.  "And that’s why you're Captain America."

"That's right," Peggy said, raising her shield with a grin.

"Who picked Brooklyn's costume?"

Steve and Peggy looked down at their pup, who was panting happily as he trotted up to them, dressed in the costume they had bought from the pet store to match the item he had run to in the Tower—

—a hot dog.

"He did!"

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of fun, written mostly because a friend asked me for something lighthearted after the current film climate.
> 
> There are some clues to events that will unfold in the Star Spangled Heart universe in here--for instance, the line in which Peggy gives Brooklyn a stuffed bottle of wine that was a present for him is not a typo. That will be explained. Similarly, the story of Sharon and Bucky* can be found in the as-yet-unpublished at the time of this story side fic, "The Unreliable Narrator".


End file.
